


Surprise, Surprise

by alphamikefoxtrot



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphamikefoxtrot/pseuds/alphamikefoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson had just returned to London after a week worth of holiday in Turkey. He was in a good mood but something was amiss in the flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprise, Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt given by a friend of mine. I've never written Sherlock/Molly (Sherlolly?) before. Apologies. I probably won't write this pairing again. Un-beta-ed, so all stupidity is mine
> 
> (I didn't mean the characters.)

John Watson was happy. Actually, properly happy. He had just returned to London after a week of holiday in the sunny Turkey without the ever present danger of being chased, hunted, kidnapped and bomb-strapped. Even today's weather seemed to correspond with the bright smile on his face. It was his flatmate's lost when he refused to come. He himself couldn't even begin to complain.

The cab he was riding from Heathrow pulled over the familiar front door. John paid the cabbie after he helped with his luggage and unlocked the door. The spring was still on his feet as he hauled his duffel bag up the decidedly gloomy staircase. Some things never change, he mused.

"Sherlock?" He called, taking off his sunglasses before his flatmate could make any comments about it. When there wasn't any answer, John walked into his room, dropped his duffel bag on the crisp bed and went to the living room. The place was as messy as any other day. Hands on hips, he muttered, "Home sweet home." His eyes scanned the room, taking in the details. There was a lot he had forgotten during his week leave... But it definitely wasn't _that_.

 _Hang on_.

What's that? Something pink was on top of Sherlock's dark couch. It was hard to mistake despite the dim lighting of the room because the last pink thing he saw in the flat was that damned phone. John quickly walked over the furniture and picked it up. It was a sock. A pink, kitten patterned sock about a woman's size… It was his cheeky Christmas present for Molly. What was it doing on top of Sherlock's couch? Where was the other half? Right when John turned his head to his left to look for the other pair, he heard the distinct clap of the flat's door being closed downstairs accompanied with a muffled conversation. That's probably Sherlock, he thought. But why did he also hear a woman, giggling, of all things?

John decided to sit on his couch, holding the pink, knitted garment between his thumb and forefinger and waited for the pair to come upstairs. True to his thoughts, the door to the living room spread open two seconds later.

"John!" There was an unusual amount of surprise in Sherlock's voice and he also heard a woman's high pitched gasp that sounded awfully like Molly's, John noted.

"Hello," he replied coolly, chin jutted forwards. "Who's with you?"

"Hum? How's Istanbul? You've had your sun, judging by your tan lines. Lucky you didn't catch malaria or anything. You've had your shots, obviously, but it happens. I believe the cab ride was a pleasant one as well, you have that look on your face. Don't mind your Turkish trinkets, it's not like we have anywhere to display them." Sherlock spoke quickly and shifted on his feet like he was trying to hide the petite figure behind him.

Ignoring Sherlock's lengthy non-sequitur, he stood up. John may be physically shorter than his friend, but he had the (somewhat) upper hand right now. "Tell Molly she left her sock on your couch. I'm going out." He grinned and walked past Sherlock to see the one and only Molly Hooper standing on the hall behind his friend. "Molly! Good afternoon!" He greeted her with a nonchalant wide smile and left the flat. The startling crimson hue on her face only provided more evidence to his case. That, and one very flustered-looking Sherlock Holmes. _Ha!_

 _So this is how it feels to be Sherlock Holmes, huh? No wonder,_ he thought as he memorized the look on Sherlock Holmes' face because he'd _pay_ for it to be framed and displayed at the British Museum with a caption provided by The Sun. Something along the line of 'Consulting Detective Caught Red-handed With A Co-worker', all in capitals with less hyphens, probably.

*** 

John Watson was still a happy man as he walked down the curb, once again perching his sunglasses over his nose. Whatever those two kids were doing, he didn't want to know.


End file.
